


Studies in Observational Devotion

by miniaturedragonfly



Category: Community (TV)
Genre: Gen, Happy Ending, Missing Scene, Post-Episode: s03e14 Pillows and Blankets, Troy and Abed actually talk about that email and that text message, but like... blink and you'll miss it, it's friendship trobed, with just a dash of unrequited pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:08:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27502810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miniaturedragonfly/pseuds/miniaturedragonfly
Summary: “We have to talk about it,” Abed said, and it really wouldn’t have mattered that Troy couldn’t meet Abed’s eyes, because Abed was barely even looking at Troy’s face, let alone his eyes.“We did talk about it,” answered Troy, even though he knew they hadn’t, not really.“No, we have to actually talk about it.  No Jeff, no friendship hats, no gimmicks.  We have to talk about it,” Abed insisted.--Jeff fixed their friendship with magical friendship hats, but it was only enough to get them out of the cafeteria.  Patching things up is going to take a little longer.
Relationships: Troy Barnes & Abed Nadir, Troy Barnes/Abed Nadir
Comments: 24
Kudos: 103





	Studies in Observational Devotion

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic ever, hope u enjoy

When Troy and Abed arrived home after the great pillow war of 2012, they were exhausted and went directly to bed. Troy hoped that they would wake up in the morning to find that everything was okay again, that they could just be Troy and Abed again without any more intervention or fights, because he _hated_ fighting with Abed.

But in the back of his mind, he knew the whole time that things were not really okay. The friendship hats didn’t work like that. They _worked_ , sure, but only enough to get them out of the cafeteria. They could stand to sit side-by-side in Annie’s car as she drove them all back to the apartment, but they didn’t speak or even look at each other. They brushed their teeth together, as always, but without making eye contact in the mirror or humming songs together like they usually did.

When Troy opened his eyes the next day, he half expected to see the soft roof of his fort—his fortress—billowing above him, but he was instead met with the slats of the bunk bed. When he heard Abed shifting in the bunk above him, he resisted the urge to close his eyes and go back to sleep, to avoid facing Abed again. But that wasn’t helpful, and he couldn’t do it forever.

So he sat up. The bunk beds creaked and shifted when Troy moved, so he wasn’t surprised to see Abed’s face peek down over the edge. Most mornings, every morning since they had moved in here, he was delighted to see Abed’s face first thing in the morning, but today he couldn’t meet Abed’s eyes.

“We have to talk about it,” Abed said, and it really wouldn’t have mattered that Troy couldn’t meet Abed’s eyes, because Abed was barely even looking at Troy’s face, let alone his eyes.

“We did talk about it,” answered Troy, even though he knew they _hadn’t_ , not really.

“No, we have to _actually_ talk about it. No Jeff, no friendship hats, no gimmicks. We have to talk about it,” Abed insisted.

Troy sighed. “Can I brush my teeth first?” he asked, resigned.

“That’s fine. Can I join you?”

Troy winced. Abed had never asked if he could join Troy when they brushed their teeth, they just sort of did it without discussing it. Last night they had both been too tired to think about it, and anyway neither of them was willing to wait for the other to finish, for fear of falling asleep without brushing at all.

“Yeah, of course,” Troy said when he realized Abed hadn’t moved, was still waiting for an answer. It hurt Troy’s heart to see Abed so unsure of the rules.

Abed climbed down from the top bunk, they brushed their teeth (again without speaking or grinning at each other in the bathroom mirror), and poured bowls of Lucky Charms. They moved in sync without speaking, which only cast a harsher light on how unusual it was for them not to have anything to say.

Once their cereal was prepared, they walked wordlessly back into the blanket fort. It might have made more sense to have this conversation on the couch in the living room, especially given the memories the blanket fort couldn’t help but prod at, but it just seemed like the right place to be. They both sat down on the bottom bunk next to each other.

After a few bites of cereal, Troy realized that Abed was waiting for him to speak first.

“You weren’t supposed to think those things,” Troy said. That was about where they had left off—or at least, it was about where _Troy_ had left off, in his mind.

“Why not?”

Troy was almost angry all over again, but then he remembered that this was Abed, that this wasn't an argument, they were _talking about it_ , and that that meant Abed was genuinely asking why he wasn’t supposed to think those things.

Still, Troy wasn’t quite sure how to respond. He had never really considered _why_ you weren’t supposed to think mean things about your friends, just that you shouldn’t do it.

“Because it’s mean,” Troy said eventually. He was only halfway through his bowl of cereal, but he’d lost his appetite, so he stirred his breakfast with his spoon absently. Then he realized his cereal was getting soggy, so he forced himself to choke down a few more bites while he waited for Abed to respond.

“How am I supposed to _not_ be mean if I can’t notice those things?” Abed finally said.

“What does that even mean, Abed?”

The words were barely out of Troy’s mouth when Abed stood up from the bed and walked to the dresser. He placed his empty bowl on top of a stack of DVDs and picked up a spiral-bound notebook. Troy recognized it—the label on the front was identical to the one on the notebook in which Abed had semi-accidentally tracked the girls’ menstrual cycles. Troy knew there was a box under their bed full of empty notebooks in various colors, and that Abed kept a film notebook and a general-observations notebook with him at all times in addition to the notebooks he used for class.

Abed flipped to the back page of the general-observations notebook he’d picked up. He walked back to the bunk beds, lifted Troy’s cereal bowl out of Troy’s hands, and dropped the notebook in Troy’s lap. Troy raised his eyebrows. Abed disliked having people touch his things in general, and he’d grown more vigilant after the menstrual chart incident. They had been best friends for over two years now, and Troy could count the number of times he’d been invited to read something in one of Abed’s notebooks on his fingers.

“Look at it,” Abed instructed him. Troy did.

The header contained a neatly penned title: “Care and Keeping of Troy”. The whole page was filled with orderly charts and lists, meticulously color-coded. There was a chart of do’s (“hugs, hand-holding, misc. displays of physical affection”) and don’t’s (“insult his intelligence”). One box contained a five-step script for subtly checking that Troy was happy. Another was titled “Songs to Remove from Playlist Upon Arrival at Parties”, and was full of songs that made Troy particularly emotional (“Come Sail Away” was highlighted in pink, some others in yellow or orange). An asterisk directed him to a note at the bottom of the page that said “if one is heard unexpectedly, _find Troy immediately_ and remove him from the situation if necessary”.

In the top corner near the binding, where it was least likely to get smudged or ripped, was a hand-drawn calendar with colored squares. It was titled “Buttered Noodles Check”, and was accompanied by a list of meals Troy loved which Abed could stand to eat too. According to the colored key, Abed used the chart to keep track of how many days it had been since the two of them had eaten something besides buttered noodles, and to determine how far out of his comfort zone Abed expected himself to reach when he suggested eating something else instead.

Also connected to the chart was a note, in red ink, that read “Remember: Troy needs nutrients to stay healthy. Don’t let him compromise on that just to make you happy.” An accompanying entry in a list titled “Compromises Troy will Always Make” noted that Troy would almost always eat the same thing as Abed if they ate at the same time, because he knew it bothered Abed when there were too many conflicting smells at the table.

Troy was so engrossed in the charts and lists that he didn’t realize Abed had left the room until he reentered, carrying a stack of notebooks with little flags poking out. Troy had watched Abed page through his film notebooks once they were full, adding sticky notes and tabs to the pages so he could reorganize the ideas into cohesive screenplay outlines, but as Abed drew closer Troy realized that these weren’t the film notebooks. He had never seen Abed go back through his general-observation notebooks, but here they were, full of flags and tabs and dog-eared pages.

“Did you read it?” Abed asked him, face carefully blank.

“Yeah.” Troy was about to say something else, but Abed cut him off by handing him the next notebook from the top of the stack, opened to the back page.

Troy looked down. It was the same page copied over, all the same information. There were some minor differences—the song list was missing one title, and the calendar was different, of course—but in general it was identical.

Before Troy could look up to search Abed’s face for answers, another notebook landed on top of the one already in his lap, open to the same page. Troy only got a few seconds to peruse it and realize that it was also the same, before Abed added another, and another, and another to the stack, all open to the final page and all with the same set of charts and lists.

Then Abed handed him yet another notebook, and Troy was starting to feel how heavy they were—how had Abed managed to carry that whole stack in here at once?—so he set the others down carefully on the floor. This notebook was opened to a different page, one titled “Troy Favorite Things”. Underneath the title was a three-columned list that went on for pages and pages, penciled onto both sides of the sheets, all color-coded with some elaborate dot-based system Troy could only vaguely parse, though he did notice that the things he liked most, what he called his favorite favorites, all had little blue stars next to them.

As soon as Troy had flipped to the last page of the “Troy Favorite Things” list, Abed handed him another list, this one titled “Troy 11/14/09-11/20/09”. This list was much more disorganized, and was really just a list of observations and things they did together. Troy recognized some jokes Abed had made that he’d laughed at, some things Shirley had said that made him scowl even though he’d long forgotten the context in which she’d said them.

Troy turned his head, looked at Abed. “What is this? Why are you showing me this?”

Abed tapped his fingers on his knees as he spoke. “When we first met, I noticed that your emotions were easy to read, but harder to predict. It was hard for me to figure out what would make you happy and what would make you unhappy, so I started taking notes. I wrote down all the things that made you happy, so I could do them more. But I also had to write down all the things that made you unhappy, so I could avoid them. I never wanted to be the reason you were unhappy, and this is the best way I could think of to make sure. After a while, the lists got unwieldy, so I compiled a cheat sheet that would keep me from making any grave mistakes by accident. I copy it onto the last page every time I start a new notebook, so it’s always with me in case I need a reference. At this point, I don’t need to look at it a lot, but I never want to hurt you, even by accident, so I keep it with me all the time just in case.”

Troy felt a few tears spill from his eyes and roll down his cheeks. Anywhere else, he would have wiped them away angrily and hoped Abed wouldn’t comment, but here in the blanket fort he let them fall. It was okay for Abed to see him cry.

“Do you have these for everyone? The whole study group?” he asked. He wasn’t sure why it was important, but some part of him wanted to hear Abed say “no, you’re special”, so he asked.

“I take notes on everyone. Remember the bottle episode?”

Troy grimaced, half because he _did_ remember the pen-stealing ghost incident, but half because Abed hadn’t said what Troy wanted to hear.

“I mean—like this. With color coded charts and stuff.”

“Oh. No, I don’t. I figure that with your help, I can probably patch things up with anybody else in the group, or it’ll eventually blow over, but I don’t know what I’d do if I had to lose you for even a few days while we sorted things out. So I’m careful.”

Troy dropped the notebook to the floor and threw his arms around Abed, really crying now. Abed tensed, and for a second Troy worried that he’d misinterpreted, that Abed was still mad at him, but then he felt Abed’s arms reach up and hug him back, and he knew things would be okay.

“You can still be mad at me,” Abed said after a moment, his voice muffled in Troy’s shoulder. “I shouldn’t have shared this information with anybody, especially not with evil intentions.”

“Yeah, well, I shouldn’t have sent that text. I didn’t mean it,” Troy replied, still holding onto Abed.

“Yes, you did,” Abed said flatly. “Everything you said was true. You were my first friend. Nobody else has your patience with me. That’s all true.”

Troy sat back, then, because he’d heard a minuscule fracture in Abed’s voice as he finished speaking. He waited a moment for Abed to collect himself, then said his name firmly, so Abed would look at him.

“Even if they’re true things, I still didn’t _mean_ them. Like, I was your first friend, sure, but all that means is that a whole bunch of people missed out on being your friend, and mostly I just feel bad for them. And that doesn’t matter anyway, because you’re my first _best_ friend, too, so we’re even.”

“You also said nobody else would ever have your patience with me,” Abed pointed out, but he didn’t look as distraught as he had sounded just a moment ago.

Troy gestured to the pile of notebooks at his feet. “Nobody else will ever have _your_ patience with _me_ , either. That’s how this works.”

Abed considered that for a second, then smiled. Troy realized abruptly that it was the first time he’d seen Abed’s smile since the pillow-and-blanket war had begun, and started to cry all over again.

“Balance restored?” he heard Abed say. Troy smiled through his tears.

“Balance restored,” he agreed.

**Author's Note:**

> Last time I watched Pillows and Blankets, I was struck by the unique heartbreak of hearing Abed's voice say "he's insecure about his level of intelligence", because I just *know* that the only reason Abed had a list of Troy's weaknesses and insecurities ready to go is that he's been carefully cataloging them for years so that he could never accidentally exploit them. Add that to my general dissatisfaction with how this fight actually ended (though I understand that it's a sitcom with an ensemble cast and they'd just spent an episode and a half dealing with a fairly heavy side of the relationship between two out of the eight main characters) and consequent belief that they *must* have dealt with it later off-camera, and here's where we wound up.


End file.
